


All You Need is Love, Love

by Jadzia_Bear



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Cake, Fluff, M/M, Stargazing, biromantic character, discussions of sexual and romantic orientations, homoromantic character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 03:40:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15941039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadzia_Bear/pseuds/Jadzia_Bear
Summary: “Never told anyone. Thought I was some kinda freak…”Conversations and revelations in the dark bring Paul and Daryl closer in a way neither of them could have anticipated.





	All You Need is Love, Love

The odd walker moans and scratches against the outside of the abandoned warehouse, but on the whole it’s a peaceful evening.

“How ‘bout in here?” Paul asks, stepping into a small office at one end of the building. He sweeps his flashlight around the confined space, finding little more than dusty furniture, a few filing cabinets and some scattered papers. The warehouse is pretty much intact, but Paul likes the idea of being able to spend the night behind a closed door as well.

Daryl nods in assent and they put down their bags and weapons.

“Cosy,” Daryl comments, as they start spreading out their sleeping gear on the grey carpet. There’s just enough room between the desks for them to lie shoulder to shoulder.  

“Don’t worry, I’m asexual,” Paul quips as he unrolls his sleeping bag.

He said it without thinking, but the truth is he’s been wanting to share that little detail for a while now, he just hasn’t been able to work it into the conversation.

Daryl freezes for a moment and side-eyes him through dark bangs. “Thought you were gay,” he says, going back to spreading out his bed roll.

Paul shrugs as he gets into his sleeping bag. “Well, half-gay, I guess. I’m romantically attracted to guys, but I’m not sexually attracted to anyone.”

Daryl shoots another furtive glance his way. “That’s a thing?”

“Yep,” Paul answers cheerfully. He lies back and laces his fingers behind his head. “It’s been said that asexuals would rather eat cake than have sex.”

Daryl snorts. Whether it’s in disbelief or merely amusement, Paul can’t be sure.

It’s kind of awkward, but Paul’s glad the conversation is finally happening. There comes a point, with his close friends at least, where it starts feeling weird if they don’t know this fundamental truth about him.

Daryl sits down on his bedroll, forearms resting on bent knees. He keeps his eyes trained on the fingernail he’s picking at as he says, “So what about kissin’ and stuff?”

There’s a hint of pink rising in Daryl’s cheeks, which is utterly adorable, and Paul’s face is warming too (that’ll happen when you talk to a cute guy about kissing), so as a courtesy to both of them he flicks off his flashlight. Now there’s just the pale yellow beam of Daryl’s flashlight throwing a strip of faded carpet into stark repose and leaving the two men in semi-darkness.

Paul keeps his tone light as he answers the question. “Definitely up for all that stuff, but it’s hard to find someone who doesn’t want sex eventually as well.”

Daryl sits quietly for a few moments as he processes this, and Paul is pleasantly surprised when yet another question is forthcoming.

“So, them other guys you were with before, you didn’t…”

“Sleep with them? Yeah, I did,” Paul answers, not bothering to suppress an audible sigh. “I thought I could put up with it for their benefit. Turns out I couldn’t.”

After another long moment Daryl stretches out with his back to Paul and flicks off his flashlight. The faintest hint of moonlight seeps in between the blinds.

Paul doesn’t know if the mood in the room is actually tense or whether he’s just feeling a bit… exposed… after that little revelation.

“Sorry if that was an over-share,” Paul offers up into the darkness.

Daryl stays silent, and really, Paul shouldn’t be offended. Silence is Daryl’s standard response to a lot of things. Time to drop the subject.

“’Night,” Paul murmurs, settling deeper into his sleeping bag and closing his eyes.

It’s several long minutes before Daryl speaks again.

“I think I might be, too,” he says, voice like gravel.

Paul’s eyes pop open. “Yeah?” He keeps his breathing calm and even in the face of this unexpected development. “Are we talking about the homoromantic part or the asexual part?”

“Both, I guess. Liked some girls too, but never really wanted to fuck anyone. Don’t really see the point.”

There’s the soft sounds of Daryl shifting onto his back, and when he speaks again, his voice sounds closer than before.

“Never told anyone. Thought I was some kinda freak…”

Paul turns to look at Daryl, even though all he can see is an outline of black on almost black. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” Paul says with a conviction he feels down to his bones. “Not a single thing.”

He really wishes he could see Daryl’s face right now.

“And if you’re romantically attracted to both guys and girls, that’s called biromantic, or panromantic.”

A little voice in the corner of Paul’s mind is doing the math, concluding that he and Daryl have compatible orientations. He tells it to be quiet.

Daryl flicks his flashlight back on and stands abruptly. “Gonna check the perimeter again.”

“Want company?” Paul asks, pushing up onto one elbow.

“Nah.”

Daryl shoulders his crossbow and disappears out the door.

Paul lets him go. That was a lot of talking for Daryl, not to mention a lot of self-discovery. If the guy needs some space to process it, that’s understandable.

Paul lies back with an exhale, his mind swirling. It’s a precious thing to find someone who truly understands what it’s like to be ace, and he’s glad he got the chance to shine a ray of acceptance on something Daryl felt shame over.

He falls asleep before Daryl returns, but when he wakes later on in the night, he can feel the solid warmth of Daryl’s back pressed against his own. He savours it for a few drowsy moments and then falls back to sleep.

* * *

The next morning Paul wakes before Daryl, and as he lies there watching him, face only inches away and soft with sleep, it becomes apparent that the unrequited crush he thought he’d beaten into submission has come roaring back to life.

His chest aches when he looks at Daryl, especially like this, unguarded and peaceful. He sees the kindred spirit in him, the child who never got enough love, and he just wants to lavish him with it, to be the person to tell him every day how loved he is, how special, how indispensable, how irreplaceable.

Maybe there’s even a chance Daryl would be interested in a relationship of some sort, especially after their conversation last night. But if he’s not…

It’s anyone’s guess how Daryl would react to being hit on by a man he’s not interested in. He might even move out of their trailer, and that’s not a risk Paul’s willing to take.

Fortunately, if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s playing it cool.

When Daryl wakes they pack up with quiet efficiency and toss their stuff back in the van with the other odds and ends they’ve collected over the last few days. Then they fill up the remaining space with useful stuff from the warehouse. It feels good to be heading home with a decent haul.

They drive in companionable silence for a while before Paul decides to check in. “So, did you, uh, have any more questions about our conversation last night? Maybe some insights you’d like to share?”

He knows it’s unlikely, but he puts the offer out there anyway.

Daryl chews on his bottom lip while he thinks. “So you never been with someone like that? Like…us?”

Paul’s heart melts a little at the word ‘us’. “No,” he confirms.

“But you wanna?”

“Yeah. I do.”

Paul is busy trying to decide if he wants to add anything to that answer when Daryl slams on the brakes and swerves onto the side of the road.

Paul doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but he instantly reaches for his gun. “What is it?”

“Raspberries,” Daryl says, jerking his chin towards the bush dotted with fruit right outside the window. “Judith loves ‘em.”

Paul chuckles and reholsters his weapon.

Upon closer inspection, there are only a few dozen berries ripe enough to pick, but they carefully collect each one in a small plastic tub.

Paul goes to eat one and Daryl bats his hand away from his mouth. “Said they’re for Judith, asshole,” he chastises.

Paul pouts and Daryl smirks, and before long they’re back on the road, their precious bounty cradled in Paul’s lap.

* * *

They get back to Hilltop by early afternoon. They’re barely through the gate and they’re already being pulled in different directions. Maggie wants an update from Paul and someone else needs advice on how to butcher a deer they brought down in Daryl’s absence.

“Meet ya on the roof after dinner?” Daryl says, taking the raspberries from Paul.

They’d fallen into the habit of sitting on the roof of the trailer every now and then, just stargazing and shooting the shit, maybe drinking a beer or two.

Paul gives his shoulder a quick squeeze. “You got it.”

* * *

Paul heads to dinner at sunset with the rest of the community. He sees Daryl sitting at a table with Carol but gets waylaid catching up with Kal and Eduardo. By the time he looks for Daryl again, he seems to have left already, so Paul heads back to the trailer and climbs up through the skylight to the roof. He takes a blanket with him, not wanting the cooling Autumn air to chase them back down again too soon.

He watches the moon rise as the people below him make moves to settle in for the night, and it’s not long before he hears a sound in the trailer. He glances down through the skylight in time to see Daryl climb up on a chair and pass a plate of something up to him.

“Here.”

“Is that a _cake?_ ” Paul asks, carefully lifting it up onto the roof. Daryl follows shortly after and sits on the blanket beside him.

It looks like a sponge cake with fresh cream and a small cluster of ripe, red raspberries on top. He can’t even remember the last time he ate cake.

Paul turns to look at Daryl, who shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I asked Carol to make it. Said you’d rather eat cake, right?”

Paul…is suddenly having a lot of feelings. “This is without a doubt the sweetest, most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Daryl worries at a thumbnail with his teeth, that adorable blush creeping up to his cheekbones.

“Daryl, is this a date?” Paul asks, his tone light enough to play it off as a joke if need be.

Daryl shrugs. “Could be if you want.”

Paul forgets how to breathe for a second. “I—yeah…I’d really like that.”

Daryl finally looks him in the eye, like he needs to check that Paul really means it. So Paul drops his carefully maintained mask to reveal his utter adoration for this shy, brave, strong, broken, rough but gentle man.

Daryl takes a shaky breath and gives a little nod. So they’re doing this then.

Paul grins. He’s literally giddy. “So, are we going to eat this cake?”

“Hell yeah we are,” Daryl responds. He produces a butter knife from one of his pockets and starts carving it up into thick slices.

“I thought the berries were for Judith,” Paul comments as Daryl passes him a piece. Their fingers brush; Paul thinks he might die of happiness.

“Decided you were worth a few of ‘em,” Daryl concedes with a hint of a smirk.

“I’m honoured,” Paul grins, using the moment to shuffle a little closer to Daryl so their sides are touching.

It’s all Paul can do not to moan as he bites into the light, fluffy cake. It’s still warm and it’s heavenly. He’s going to have to thank Carol.

They sit quietly for a while, eating cake, looking at the stars and adjusting to their new circumstances.

When they finish eating, Paul laces his fingers with Daryl’s, the brush of his strong, calloused hand against Paul’s palm sending delightful shivers through him. He was planning to take things really slow, but god, he just really wants more, so he lifts their joined hands to his lips and presses a kiss to Daryl’s knuckles.

If it wasn’t a quiet evening and he wasn’t paying attention to every single little thing about Daryl in that moment, he might have missed the faint gasp that passes Daryl’s lips.

“Okay?” Paul asks.

Daryl makes a soft sound in the back of his throat. Paul’s pretty sure he’s into it, but he needs Daryl to know that his consent is important.

“That wasn’t a word. You need to use your words if you want me to kiss you again,” Paul teases.

“Fuckin’ kiss me, asshole.”

Paul is mid-laugh when their lips meet, but he quickly brings it under control so he can kiss Daryl properly.

It’s surreal, feeling Daryl’s warm, dry lips against his own. Daryl kisses back cautiously and Paul doesn’t rush him, because it turns out his kisses are far sweeter than they have any right to be. Paul runs his hands up sculpted arms, as if to prove to himself that it’s really Daryl. He cups Daryl’s jaw with one hand and strokes a thumb over his cheek, making his breath hitch.

The cool night air, the milky moonlight, the chirp of the crickets, it all fades away as Paul’s world fills with Daryl—the softness of his lips, the gentle heat of his tongue, the light scratch of his whiskers.

Paul didn’t know it would feel this safe, this freeing, to be with someone else who’s ace, to know that there’s no pressure to go any further than he wants. His heart swells with it and he pulls Daryl closer.

The kisses eventually taper off on their own, leaving Paul with his head nestled on Daryl’s shoulder and Daryl absently trailing calloused fingertips up and down Paul’s arm.

“More cake?” Daryl asks.

Paul smiles. “Yes, please.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope my use of the term 'half-gay' wasn't upsetting to anyone, apologies if so (it comes from how I interpret my own identity of biromantic greysexual). Thank you so much for reading. I think ace representation is really important but I always worry that the idea of asexual characters will put people off, so I'm really glad you're here :)


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